


all i loved

by kakashihatake123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 10:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10275176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashihatake123/pseuds/kakashihatake123
Summary: "I love you."They must have said the words half a hundred times each day, speaking freely and tenderly from the mornings when Jon pressed a kiss to her brow before leaving for work in the morning to their afternoon chat when she phoned him during her lunch break. Every morning, when Jon kissed her brow before leaving for work and when he phoned during lunch, aching just to hear the sound of her voice even for just a few moments.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyannaes (badwolfreborn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfreborn/gifts).



> Happy birthday!!!

_all i loved_

_"I love you."_

They must have said the words half a hundred times each day, speaking freely and tenderly from the mornings when Jon pressed a kiss to her brow before leaving for work in the morning to their afternoon chat when she phoned him during her lunch break. Every morning, when Jon kissed her brow before leaving for work and when he phoned during lunch, aching just to hear the sound of her voice even for just a few moments.

From the time they were children, having grown up three houses down from each other in Winterfell, their parents having worked together since the time they were in their twenties, they had been close. The Starks and Targaryens had played knights and maidens and hide and seek since they were old enough to walk, their neighborhood a massive playground seemingly just for them, and little had changed as they grew older. Their bodies had lengthened and begun to change, the lankiness of Jon’s limbs giving way to muscle and sinew and the straight edges of Sansa’s growing into curves.

Through secondary school they had remained as thick as thieves, perhaps even closer since Sansa had turned to cheerleading and Jon to football. Each away game they had sat beside each other on the busses, curled against each other during nights so they could sleep more comfortably, their limbs in a tangle, their heads against each others shoulders.

Their uncles had even placed a bet to see how long it would take them to begin dating and before long the gamble had extended from Benjen Stark and Oberyn Martell to the entirety of the Stark-Targaryen household, from everyone to Arya and Robb to Ellaria Sand. Luckily for Oberyn it was not long until they begun to officially date, having realized their feelings somewhere in the back of a hackney.

* * *

The first time the words had slipped out they had been caused by great accident. Jon had endured two weeks of double shifts and a fortnight of uneasy, restless sleep, desperate for a morning when he was not up before the sun. The coffee machine at the station had broken the week before and no one bothered to repair it, leaving their caffeine fix to be satisfied by the old machine in the break room whose coffee tasted like pennies and hot water came out orange.

When Sansa had appeared he had been shocked and overwhelmed with gratitude at the sight of a take away bag in her arms. She had smiled at him from across the room, setting the bag down on his desk and grinning.

"Hey soldier." she teased. "Thought you could use some refreshments."

Stealing away from his desk Jon showed her that they had the roof to themselves, glad to have braved the cold February air, for no one else had dared, leaving the small rooftop patio free for them alone.

Biting into his burger Jon had let out a moan, the cheese and bread and meat a far better alternative than the cold tuna sandwich he had bought from the vendor outside. "Gods I love you." Jon had moaned, his mouth stuffed with chips and vinegar. He took a long pull from the plastic cup before he realized what he had said, his eyes widening. He could not meet Sansa’s eyes, afraid to see what emotion would lie there.

When he finally did look up he found she did not speak, turning instead to take a bite of her own burger. There was no inclination to prove that she had even heard him except the small smile she held to herself.

“I was er…” he said. “Talking to the burger.”

Sansa chuckled. “I’m more of a chip love myself-“ she reached for a chip on his plate. “Though we all have our kinks I guess.”

* * *

For many years they had said the words, in laughter and jest, in halfhearted joy, but the first time they had ever _truly_ meant it came a day in December, when the northern air was so cold that Sansa could barely breathe without feeling her lungs contract within her chest. They had decided to stay in for the night at the flat Jon and Robb shared; eating what little food they had left in the refrigerator and glad that Robb had decided to stay the night at Jeyne’s. It had been weeks since they had truly been alone together, leaving them nothing but stolen kisses and tender, quick touches, until now.

Jon brushed a hand through his dark curls, pushing them free from his brow so he could better see the woman lying beneath him as her hips twitched against his. Clothes was strewn about the room haphazardly, abandoned in the order in which they were removed, and despite the emptiness of the flat he had locked the door, just in case Robb should decide to return home.

Her crimson hair spilled over her bare shoulders like a wave of shimmering satin. Her breasts had been freed from the lace and chiffon they had been swathed in, shining with the wetness his lips had left upon them after he had undone the clasps of her bra and tossed it over his shoulder. The growing tension between them had been as palpable as static electricity, bodies warm as they clawed at each other, hard and fast and wet.

His hand gripped her arse tightly, his thumb running along the edge of the silk knickers she had purchased for the occasion. Sansa moaned, the teeth that pressed into her bottom lip combined with the hand that palmed at his cock clouding his mind with desperation. His fingers had followed suit to reach down into her knickers and find her illicitly wet. It made him pant, delirious with the thought that she wanted him so, and before he could realise which one of their hands had pulled her knickers free of her hips she was as bare as he.

It was later, in the throes of his second orgasm of the night that Jon had let his head fall into the hollow crook of her neck, Sansa tipping her head back to accept the kiss he planted on her mouth. She smelled of sweet, perfumed soap and shone with the crystalline sweat that had mingled with that upon his chest.

Jon’s kissed had been hungry and bruising, accepted by eager lips and a playful, twirling tongue. His mouth had lowered to plant a kiss upon the cavern between her breasts when the words had escaped him like a breath he could no longer hold.

"I love you." he had professed, breath stuttered.

Sansa had let her fingers run through the curling strands of his hair, the smile on her lips playful but kind. Jon had gone still with fear, afraid that he had uttered the words too quickly, too callously, too-

She lifted her head to let her forehead bump against his, nuzzling his nose teasingly with hers. "I love you too." she promised, her voice proving he had no need to worry.

* * *

It was not long before the words were exchanged again, free from the command of passion. Sansa, cold and wet, was desperate to be out of the snow, holding tightly to Jon, who walked beside her. A blizzard had torn through the university campus and sent everyone inside- everyone that had not yet left for their holiday mini-break. Jon and Sansa, out of groceries, had braved the snow and were on the way home when they had come across the forest path where they had shared so many memories. Hanging from the branches of bare branches several strings of golden lights had caused the snow to melt around the path, the darkness of the night punctuated by the fairy lights that swayed in the cold breeze. 

The icy wind lapped at them as they walked shoulder to shoulder to brace against the cold, gloved fingers entwined for warmth. Sansa trudged through the snow, something below the blanket of ice tangled around her feet. Jon caught hold of her elbow, catching her before she stumbled to her knees, and set down the bag of groceries he carried. They paused on the lit path as he kneeling beside her, untangling a thinning, dry branch from where it had been caught by the laces of her boots.

Sansa had smiled, her hands resting upon his shoulders to balance herself, surprised by the tenderness of his gloved fingers as they worked. "I love you." she had professed, the sudden loudness of her voice on the otherwise silent landscape making him jump.

The snow had built up around them as they stood on the path, Jon kneeling at her side, Sansa's toes curling with the nervousness of her confession. Her coat was long and thick but did little to stave off the cold that filled her bones and made her tremble like a drying leaf in autumn wind, her gloved fingers fingering the material of Jon's collar before he stood.

Brushing the snow from his legs Jon dipped his head to hide his blushed cheeks and took a step towards her, standing in such a way as to block the wind from hitting her. She felt more vulnerable than she had when they had first found out about the other's affections, sitting beside each other in the back of that hackney, or when she had first undone the laces of her dress and let it pool around her ankles, leaving her nude as a statue before his bed.

Her nose and cheeks had gone pink from the cold, her auburn hair loose around her shoulders and dusted with a sprinkle of powdery snow, its ends swaying in the bitter wind. Her eyes followed him, embarrassed, pleased, aching to say more and yet wishing she had never spoken. The words had seemed so large inside of her, heavy on her tongue and thick as cold molasses as they swirled around her brain but as she said them they had shrunk, become so small that they had not seemed like enough. She had wanted to tell him, really wanted him to know, but it didn't seem good enough.

Sansa swallowed the hard lump that built in her throat, feeling his hand lifted hesitantly to curl around the lapels of her coat, it's marbled buttons cold against his fingers as he pulled her closer. His free hand lifted to the back of her head, curling through her hair easily until he was guiding her forward. His lips were cold against hers, and tasted of the chocolate they had shared at the start of her walk, sweet and soft, and as addictive and consuming as a drug. As though he were a stoked fire she melted against him, his kiss firm and pleading against her desperate mouth. 

She was breathless when she pulled away from him, feeling his hesitation as she moved away from him. Groceries long forgotten, Jon moved to lay his cheek against hers, the corner of his mouth against her own. His breath fogged in the air, warm against her cold skin, his voice almost lost in her hair as he spoke. "I love you."

* * *

The day of their wedding was absolute, sheer, bloody madness. Relatives and guests had flown in from across Westeros, from the parents of the bride and groom to the most meagerly related of family members, changing the ceremony from something small and shy to a full grown affair with upwards of two hundred guests. It was everything Jon had not wanted, the stress, the small talk, the annoyance. But if it meant being married to her- Jon would have invited every person in the Seven Kingdoms to join. 

Sansa’s bridesmaids had spent days ahead of time planning ways to calm her down should she need it but found that on the day of the actual wedding Sansa was more than calm. She even chuckled at the multiple, ghastly errors being made. First the piano player had fallen in the shower and broken her wrist, leaving the wedding march to be played instead by Theon Greyjoy on the electric guitar. Then the veil had been sent across town accidentally, leaving Sansa’s head as bare as the bar- whose drinks had yet to be delivered.

But Sansa only waved away the worries.

“Listen love-“ said Margaery, pulling her aside as she continued to touch up her makeup for the ceremony. “I’m not here to judge you but are you…on something? Because if so, you ought to share because I’m about to pull out my hair.”

From across the room Arya added- “She spent three hundred pounds having it done and this morning when she thought I _touched_ it she slapped my hand.”

“Turns out it was just the wind, but nevertheless-“ Margaery continued.

“-And it looks lovely.” added the bride, kissing her maid of honour on the cheek. “But I’m not _on_ anything.”

“She’s just happy.” Said Dany, grinning and continuing to braid the younger Stark's hair. “It’s her wedding day.”

Catelyn sniffled, dabbing at her wet eyes with a handkerchief. “I remember my wedding day. I had just-“

“Not again mum!” said Arya, rolling her eyes. “We’ve already heard that story ten times. _Today_.”

“Tosh.” Said Catelyn, but nevertheless did not continue.

“Everything is fine.” said Sansa. She didn’t care about the piano or the veil or the bar. She didn’t care about anything except not spending one more day not married to Jon.

By the time she was set to walk down the aisle Dany and Margaery had managed to fashion a makeshift veil out of the inner lining of Arya’s dress, clasping it to the back of Sansa’s hair with a set of pearl pins that her father had given to her for a wedding gift. A few of the guests had run off to the store for some wine and liqueur to stock the bar and somehow Robb had convinced Theon to swap the electric guitar for a soft, harmonious acoustic. However- as Sansa later found out, Theon had only agreed to this because he promise that Theon could sing not one, not two, but _three_ of his original songs at the reception. But even then she didn’t care.

As soon as she had seen Jon at the end of the aisle all her nervousness and hesitancy had melted away. He looked fit in his bespoke black suit, a great change from the jeans and jumpers he usually wore, and as he saw her his face came alight with happiness.

She was as beautiful as he had known she would be, draped in soft white, the paleness of her gown a fiery contrast with her hair. He could barely even pay attention to the words of the Septon, so completely taken with his soon-to-be-bride that he barely heard a word until it was announced that he should take the bride under his protection, and kiss her before the cheering crowd.

“I love you.” He whispered. “My wife.”

Sansa wiped her lipstick from his lips with her thumb. Her cheeks were pink and sparkling slightly with the glittery eyeshadow that had been dusted upon her cheeks. “I love you too, my husband.”

* * *

 

Within the first hour that Sansa had gone into labour Jon had told her that he loved her upwards of a hundred times. When he had brought her ice chips he had kissed her forehead and told her, when she was having an IV placed and she squeezed his hand for support he told her, when he had brushed back her hair from her glistening brow he told her. He spent the hours whispering sweet things against the shell of her ear, telling that he knew she was in pain now but it would all be over soon. Soon they would be free to go, cradling their child in their arms, playing games with the boy, spoiling him as rotten as a tooth.

Jon did not leave the room for a moment, despite the fact that her labour was upwards of seventeen hours. Even as she slept he did not. He kept a close and careful watch upon her day and night, as though his eye was the only thing that would keep her safe from harm.

By the time their child was pulled into the world Jon’s eyes were red rimmed and rattled with the bruises that showed his lack of sleep. The unshorn stubble forming beneath his brow rubbed Sansa’s cheeks as he leaned forward to kiss the babe, the wetness on her cheeks not clear as to whether they were hers or his.

They lay together on the bed, given a brief reprieve from the many faces who wanted to bless the new child or congratulate the new parents. The boy curled in their arms, his foot barely half the size of Sansa’s index finger, cooing softly. His skin was pale and reddened; with wisps of dark hair that Sansa hoped would soon curl, just like his father’s.

Sansa let her tired head fall easily against her husband’s shoulder, so close to becoming overrun with fatigue that she could feel her eyes burn behind their lids. Her body ached from the stress of birth but she was loathe to close her eyes even for a moment, lest she miss a single breath if little Ned’s.

Jon made faces at the baby, looking down to find his half lidded eyes bright as marbles. He brought his nose to the baby’s, nuzzling it affectionately, and just as Sansa began to fall into sleep she heard her husband whisper, “I love you.”


End file.
